


Veritas

by The_End13



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 02:06:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10821501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_End13/pseuds/The_End13
Summary: Staring death in the face makes people realize what they want in life. After the fateful events following Saint Patrick's Day in 1999, Connor decides it's time to go after the one he truly wants.





	1. one

As Catherine wove around the tables, a light breeze from the Atlantic flowed through her hair. With two plates balanced in her left hand and another in her right, she wore jeans and a t-shirt even though the weather demanded a sweatshirt. March in Boston wasn't as warm as she would have liked but she was growing bored of plain sweaters and jackets. She brought the plates to three men wearing crisp button downs and loosened ties—the closest one to her caught Catherine's eye and smiled. As much as he was trying to pretend he was just a friendly guy offering a friendly gesture, she knew he was watching her fluid movements.

Once she retrieved three more glasses of lemonade, she returned to the waitress's station. Sipping her own water from a transparent plastic straw, Catherine stole a glance at the sight in front of her.

It was Patrick's Day and the temperate was hovering somewhere around perfect. The sky above the blue and gave way to a full sun and few white, cotton clouds. A couple of seagulls sat perched on the railing waiting for a patron to feed it a tear of bread or pounce on the crumbs sitting on empty tables. The owner of the ocean-side restaurant hated them. He called them rats with wings—a name few disagreed with.

Catherine began brewing another pot of iced tea and wiping down the station with a damp rag from the bucket under the counter. She felt someone tap her on the back and tossed the rag in the bucket of cleaning solution before turning around. It was Natasha—a young Russian immigrant who had been in Boston and on the job for less than three months. "Can you take another table, Catherine?"

Looking down at the time on her watch, Catherine supposed she could. She had put her request in for half-day months ago and with her seniority, it had been granted. "Yeah, sure, no problem."  
Natasha buttoned her light jacket as grabbed her purse before wiggling her fingers in a goodbye. On any other given day, Catherine would have accepted the table with no hard feelings but tonight was different—she had plans. What Irishwoman didn't have plans on Saint Paddy's?

She had been working at the restaurant for nearly three years. The pay was fair but the tips were better and Catherine had become too attached to the small restaurant to leave. She was an intelligent girl and college was out of the question and just as along as she was comfortable, Catherine was happy.  
After refilling waters and lemonades, Catherine made her way into the kitchen. One of the cooks, Tommy, winked at her as she grabbed the warm plates sitting beneath the lights. A year ago he had asked her out, and Catherine declined his offer. She wasn't interested in dating and if she were she wouldn't date anyone from the restaurant.

"Doesn't look like it's going to slow down at all," Tommy commented. He was tall and slender with a thick head of blonde hair and the clearest blue eyes Catherine had even seen. She guessed he was a couple years old her than her and still lived with his parents in South Boston.

Sipping a handful of wrapped straws into her back pocket, Catherine placed the four plates in her arms. She was unwilling to use a tray anymore—years of practice had eventually paid off. "It's a nice day. No one wants to be cooped up inside after a long winter."

Tommy loved her accent and how the feistiness in her voice only hardened her words more. "I wouldn't be here though. I'd be at the beach walking along the shore. That's exactly where I'm headed after this."

"That sounds like an idea." Turning on her heels, Catherine smiled warmly and pushed the swinging doors open with her right hip. Back outside the sun began beating down on her face and not before long did she feel a small sweat collect at the base of her neck. By the end of the day, her skin surely would be darker—or redder—than what she arrived to work with. Although Catherine constantly reminded herself to buy sunscreen she couldn't fit it into her budget. After utilities, there wasn't much left over on her waitress salary for luxuries.

Bending at the knees, Catherine dropped the four plates on the table that had belonged to Natasha. A number of businessmen stopping by the place for an early dinner surprised Catherine. Usually, at four o'clock on a weekday afternoon, the only people buzzing around were high school kids or mothers with babies in strollers. After asking if there was anything else she could get them, Catherine returned to the station when they replied with a 'no'.

"I think those guys are checking you out," Nikki said while nodding to a table occupied by two men. At first glance, most wouldn't guess they were twins. All she could do was shake her head and play along as one of them tossed a goofy expression in her direction. "They're cute; you should go over and take their drink orders—it's my table but you can take it."

Sliding her hands into her back pockets, Catherine slipped past the other tables. As much as she wanted to sit, she fought the urge to plop down and toss her feet up, for once being the one served on.  
The brothers smiled sheepishly as they wiggled in their chairs. It wasn't often they came around and scoped her out at the restaurant. Mostly they just waited for her in her apartment with a bottle of Jameson and a few packs of cigarettes.

"Couldn't wait until the end of my shift?" Catherine declined Murphy's offer to take a drag from his smoke as he slid his zippo into the pocket of his pea coat. On a day like today, she wondered how they could wear those warm coats.

"No, Murph and I decided to drop by." Connor leaned his elbows on the table and shot a look at his brother as Murphy blew a puff of smoke into his face. "Wanted to make sure ‘yer still on for tonight."

Catherine tucked her bangs behind her left ear before placing her hands on her hips. She could tell they were anxious to go to the local pub and she appreciated their self-control to wait until her shift ended.

"Of course we're still on for tonight." Catherine ran her fingers through the sandy blonde hair of Connor. It was growing rather long at an alarming rate and she wished he would at some point trim it. "It's Saint Patrick's Day and I wouldn't spend it with anyone other than the two of you."

The smile Catherine possessed was wide and showed off her perfect white teeth. Connor too smiled, but only his formed out of the corner of his mouth. It became painfully obvious to Murphy who sat back in the chair with his right foot propped up on his left knee, that the crush Connor had developed on Catherine nearly a year ago was now possibly full blown love. It was also clear that there was no doubt Catherine reciprocated some sort of schoolgirl crush.

On second thought, Catherine reached out for Murphy's cigarette and blew a stream of smoke up to the cloudy sky. "I've only got about an hour until my shift is over. Go have fun and I'll meet you at McGinty's later."  
Connor wasn't too enthused with the idea of Catherine walking the dark streets of South Boston, especially on a night when most men were drunk beyond words and not acting in the most chivalrous of ways. It would put his mind at ease to wait until she was done, but his twin brother was far too eager to get his drink on.

Standing up from the table to open it up for other patrons who were actually interested in order a meal, Murphy put his cigarette out as Connor pulled Catherine into a hug and held her for several seconds longer than a hug between two friends should last.

Kissing both her cheeks in farewell, Murphy playfully smacked Catherine's ass to the look of jealousy on Connor's face. "See 'ya tonight."

Murphy winked.

Catherine only chuckled to herself and returned the goodbye as she headed off to check on her tables.

-

McGinty's was packed by the time Catherine walked into the pub. The familiar scents of smoke and Jameson whiskey filled her nostrils giving her the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach that almost felt like a sense of belonging. Before Catherine had picked up and left her roots in the Midwest for South Boston, Catherine had always been a girl in the shadows. At McGinty's, all the regular patrons knew her name and were always happy to see her.

Squeezing her way through the crowd and up to the bar, Catherine was welcomed with hugs, wishes of a happy Saint Patrick's Day and from Murphy MacManus a shot of Irish. Catherine's original intent for the night had been to simply throw down a few beers before heading home and sleeping off the long workweek. It seemed the MacManus brothers had a different plan for her.

Sucking down the warm Irish whiskey, Catherine felt the burn deep within her gut as she stomach churned. She hadn't eaten much that day that the first thing to be put in her stomach most certainly shouldn't have been a shot of potent alcohol. Pulling a menthol cigarette from her pack, Connor was quick with his zippo to light her smoke.

"Hey, Doc!" She called out resting her forearms on the bar. "Get me a beer, please."

Connor stood up from his barstool and offered the seat to Catherine, which she took without hesitation. Her feet were beyond sore after having been standing with no rest for the last eight hours.

"Missed 'ya at mass this mornin'."

Connor used the back of his hand to wipe away the foam that had collected on his upper lip after taking a sip from his newly pulled beer. Having come from an Irish-American family herself, it was a rarity that Catherine missed mass. In fact, the local Catholic Church had been where Catherine first met the twins when she asked to bum a smoke off one of the brothers on a dreary Sunday morning.

She swallowed her mouthful of chewed pretzels before she defended herself. "I was at the restaurant before you two bums were even up this morning."

Connor snarled; he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She hoped it didn't show just how much she not only relaxed but also blushed as she could feel his warm body press against her. The thoughts that filled her head were almost sinful as she thought of the things she wished Connor would do to her.

"That's okay." Murphy jumped in. "We'll save ye a seat tomorrow."

Midnight had rolled around quicker than anyone had expected and before they knew it, it was the usual seven of them still hanging.

"I h-h-have something to-to tell you guys." Doc looked at his brood with drunken eyes. "The Russians, they're making me close down the-the-the bar."

"What?!" The seven of them all cried out in unison, not wanting to lose their local watering hole and also concerned about the old man's wellbeing. McGinty's Pub was Doc's life. He had poured every cent he had along with blood, sweat and even a marriage or two into the bar.

"I'm sure there's something you can do to keep them from taking this place." Catherine protested.  
Rocco lit a cigarette. "Let me talk to my boss. Maybe there's something he can do…"

Everyone rolled their eyes; Catherine reached out and gave Rocco a slight nudge to get him to stop speaking. No one wanted to be indebted to Papa Joe. Glancing down to her watch and realizing it was no longer Saint Patrick's Day, Catherine finished what was left in her shot glass.

"Alright boys, it's time for me to head home."

Connor turned his head to look at the blue-eyed beauty. "Can't hang with the big boys?"

In a rather impressive fake Irish accent, Catherine grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "I suppose not. Connor, escort 'yer lady to th'door?"

"Aye."

Walking Catherine to the door after she bid her goodbyes, Connor stepped outside. The cool air, which blasted their bodies, had come quite unexpectedly. The two stood for several seconds in an awkward stance. In his head, Connor kept telling himself to man up and grab Catherine and just kiss her, as he had wanted to do for as long as he could remember. However, he couldn't find the courage and even if he had been able to, Catherine spoke up.

"Meet me tomorrow at the usual spot for coffee. 11 o'clock?"

Connor smiled and nodded. "Of course I'll be there."


	2. two

Punctuality was a strong suit of the MacManus twins. When Catherine arrived at the diner a quarter to eleven, she was surprised to find Connor hasn’t arrived and saved a table for them. Slipping into a booth in front of the storefront window, Catherine ordered herself and Connor a coffee, deciding to hold off until he got there to decide on what to eat.

Forty minutes, three cups, and nearly half a pack of cigarettes later, Catherine waved the white flag. Tossing a five-dollar bill on the table, she angrily stormed out of the diner hell bent on finding out exactly why Connor had stood her up. While she knew it most likely wasn’t the case, the only reason she could think of was he had found another woman to accompany the previous night with and was sharing coffee and waffles with her.

Catherine fought every urge to march over to the MacManus’ fifth-floor loft. They were friends; nothing more. If Connor had found another female to spend his time with, that was his business and she would respect it. She was irked by his lack of consideration—a phone call would have been nice.

On her way back to her apartment, Catherine passed the church she attended with the brothers. She thought about going inside to see if they had lost track of time saying a rosary or maybe there was a line to see the Priest for confession. She decided against it as she would feel like an ass for getting upset over Connor being caught up in the church.

The neighborhood where Catherine and the MacManus twins lived wasn’t big compared to other ethnic areas in South Boston. Their dwellings were only blocks apart and the building called home was down the street from McGinty’s. That’s why it didn’t come as such a shock when she saw Doc attempting to wave her down as she approached. Tossing her cigarette into the street, Catherine offered a friendly wave, ignoring Doc’s anxious temperament.

He picked up his pace, jogging to meet her. Doc stuttered, “h-h-have you see t-t-tha’twins?”

Catherine’s demeanor changed immediately. “I was supposed to meet Connor for breakfast but he never showed up.”

“FBI showed up, askin’ for ‘dem.” He was trying to suppress his tick but failed. “Fuck, ass!”

She took the card from Doc’s hand, examined it and gave it back. Nothing came to her mind as to what the FBI would want with them, their immigration papers had been processed and approved years ago. She had her answer as to why Connor stood her up.

“Go back to the bar and wait to see if they call.” Catherine turned on the balls of her feet, “I’ll go to their place and see if they’re there.”

With the Boston police still hanging out in front of Connor and Murphy’s building, Catherine knew there was only one thing she could do; head back home and wait.

-

The Boston Police station was abuzz long before the twins came stumbling in, in order to clear their names for the assault and eventual murder that took place at their building in the early morning hours. As they sat in the holding cell they requested to spend the night in, Rocco came later in the day baring a fresh change of clothes and their rosaries. If there were ever a time to say a rosary or two, now was definitely it.

Murphy dealt out the cards the trio was using to play poker. “’av ye spoke to Catherine?”

“Nah,” Rocco toyed with the corner of the worn cards. “I took a peek by her building before heading over. She was sitting on the steps smoking…she don’t look so good.”

There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation. “You want me to bring her here?”

“No!” The twins

Connor spoke first. “Don’t want her ‘ta see me,” he caught his slip up as Rocco and Murphy shot him a look. “Us. I don’t want her ‘ta see us like this.”

Connor knew there was absolutely no way in which he could that torturous discussion he would have with Catherine outlining the events over the last nine-or-so hours. Her anger over him having stood her up for coffee and waffles was long gone but Connor knew she was going to be overly upset over his failure to get in touch and let her know he was at least alive.

All he could do was sit back and think about the stupid lines he had rehearsed in his head over again. He had planned to finally ask Catherine if she would be interested in going on a proper date with him. Connor had been saving what little he could from his paychecks over the last several months so he could take her someplace nice. Someplace not in South Boston, something Connor felt the hardworking woman deserved. However, after today, he figured his chances were pretty much dead – it would take a miracle for said chances to be revived.

“Don’t worry, Con. Ya still look handsome. She may find ya a little more darling now. I’m sure she’ll play nurse.” Murphy chuckled.

“Fuck off.” Connor tossed his cards at his laughing brother.

Rocco too laughed at the expense of his oldest friend. “You better close that deal soon, my brother. You’ll be playing the role of godfather to the kids she’ll be popping out instead of knocking her up.”

Deciding to sit this hand out, Connor hoisted himself to rest his back along the wall. Rocco wasn’t wrong; girls like Catherine don’t last long on the market.

The following morning, the first stop Connor and Murphy made after leaving the police station was the church. Catherine had the same idea. She was sitting in her usual pew, on her knees, thumbing through her rosary. The twins were silent as they approached as to not disturb the other parishioners. Catherine’s eyes were closed and Connor watched her mouth with intent as she mimed her Hail Mary’s. It was that prayer in particular that Connor knew brought Catherine consolation. Murphy signaled Connor to slide in first, beside the woman.

It took Catherine a second to register Connor sitting beside her. When she opened her eyes and looked up at him, he noticed her cheeks were raw from tears; sorrow in her eyes. They did manage to slightly soften despite the fresh set of tears that fell from her eyes as she gazed up at Connor. He pulled her up from her kneeling position and closed his arms around her in a tight embrace. Holding her close, Connor nuzzled his nose into her thick name of wavy, red hair.

Having half expected to never see her again after the events the morning prior, Connor never found the scent of her shampoo and perfume to be so comforting. The realization of never wanting to go a day without those feminine scents invigorating his senses filled his heart.

He blinked back his own tears as he felt Catherine’s breathing begin to quicken. She was crying. Although she was still in Connor’s embrace, Murphy loosened the death grip she had on Connor’s coat, giving her hand a tight squeeze.

When Catherine finally let go of Connor, she kissed his cheek. Any feelings of anger she had been holding on to over their failure to contact her in the last day and a half had vanished. All she wanted was to be in Connor’s arms.

The three of them knelt down; made the sign of the cross. Connor grabbed Catherine’s hand and allowed their rosaries to entangle.


	3. three

“Are ‘ya sure ye know what you’re doing?”

Murphy looked a bit more anxious than Connor. The more injured twin sat across from Catherine at her kitchen table, sans wrist bandages, his arms laying flat.

“Nope.” Catherine took a swig from the whiskey bottle. “But I’ve seen it done on ER a bunch of time.”

Connor reached for the bottle, taking a bigger swig as the er doctor wannabe soaked cotton with hydrogen peroxide. His question was a general one, “I’m gonna lose me hands, aren’t I?”

The fact Catherine had been drinking whiskey didn’t help the brothers confidence in the medical training Catherine had apparently obtained through a cheesy television program. She said she could clean and dress Connor’s wounded wrists. There was nothing more he could do but trust the peroxide and antibiotic cream she had in her bathroom.

“This may burn a bit,” she warned.

Connor was mesmerized by the gentleness Catherine exhibited. She gripped his arm tenderly as she brought the moistened cotton ball to his wrists, dabbed the wounds. Crusts of dried blood flaked off Connor’s skin as the peroxide gurgled and burned. Connor had made an audible wincing that prompted Catherine to gently blow on the bubbling skin hoping that would lessen his discomfort. Murphy handed his brother the bottle of Irish. Catherine couldn’t stand watching Connor ride the harsh waves of pain but she knew the hard part was over as she tossed the pink cotton ball into the trash.

Reaching across the table, she cradled Connor’s jaw in the palm of her hand so she could rub his bottom lip with her thumb. Much to the surprise of all three of them, Connor kissed the digit. Catherine initially thought her instant response would be to jerk away from the warmth of his lips on her skin but rather it ignited a fire she had never experienced before. When they locked eyes she did, however, shake the gaze.

“Still burning?”

Connor only managed to shake his head as Catherine layered on a glob of antibiotic ointment. He was still at a loss for words as she dressed the now clean wounds in fresh gauze.

A thick silence had fallen between the three of them. An even thicker tension swelled amid Connor and Catherine as he watched her graceful movements of packing up the few medical supplies she had. He could finally take a breath when she left the kitchen for the bathroom to tuck the Ziplock bag back under the sink. Catherine fetched Murphy a fresh beer from the refrigerator upon her return to the kitchen. He thanked her, breaking the silence.

There was a nagging question the boys had been itching to ask Catherine since they left church earlier in the morning. Both had their own reasons for not wanting to ask as it would cause Catherine to ask a dozen questions of her own. However, it had it be asked, and Murphy was the one who didn’t want to put off the inevitable any longer.

Murphy cleared his throat and looked at Connor. Connor knew it was coming and poured himself another two fingers of whiskey. It was never easy for Connor to sit through a conversation where Catherine spoke about a former boyfriend but they needed him and she was their connection.

“Ye still talk with that guy ya were seeing who sold guns?”

Catherine lit a cigarette with Connor’s Zippo. “A bit. I went to him for a piece last week after I was mugged.”

Four years of living in South Boston, Catherine had managed to not have her wallet and jewelry stolen from a street thug. Last week she had broken the streak of good luck. Walking home from McGinty’s where Doc had her bartending Saturday night, she had been mugged at gunpoint. Having her cash, credit card, and beloved crucifix necklace and Claddagh ring stolen from her, Catherine ran straight to the MacManus loft where she broke down in tears. They had no idea it scared her to the point of driving her to feel the need to pack heat.

Connor made a mental note to take her to the range and make sure she knew how to properly use the gun. While he was sure the arms dealer of an ex-boyfriend taught her how to shoot, he still wanted that opportunity.

“Can ya call him, now?” Connor questioned.

Catherine knew better than to question the request. She excused herself from the kitchen and headed into her bedroom to make the call there. Less than five minutes later, Catherine came back with a scrap of paper that she held out, Murphy took it, then handed it off to Connor. It was an address.

Even her handwriting was perfect.

The brothers caught themselves leaning over the round table to grab a glance at Catherine’s backside as she crouched down to dig through a cabinet. Murphy bit his lip at the sight of her lacy panties. He shot Connor another look, you lucky son-of-a-bitch…

Connor punched Murphy and both straightened out as Catherine came back to the table. She tossed down two boxes of ammunition and bag full of pennies.

Those were older boxes of ammunition. Just as Catherine knew not to ask why they needed a connection to the local arms dealer, they knew not to question why she had it in the first place.

“McGinty’s later?” Catherine asked. The boys stood up each stuffing a box into their coat pockets.

“Aye,” wrapping her in his arms, Connor pressed a kiss to her forehead.  
\- -  
As it neared eleven, Catherine began to lose hope Connor and Murphy would show up. She hadn’t heard from them since they left her apartment around one that afternoon and she battled her inner intuition to call Shane and pry into him about what the twins had procured from him. It was her luck the rational side of her brain was still working as a call to her ex-boyfriend would probably end badly for both parties involved.

Catherine was lonely. Even Rocco was missing from his usual barstool. Doc took pity on the young woman, denying the cash she held out to cover the ounces Doc poured into the Old Fashioned glass she was using to nurse the Michael Collins blended whiskey Doc kept on the shelf. She told herself that if they didn’t show by the time she finished her drink, she would call it a night.

Luckily for both her and the twins, they barged through the doors of McGinty’s. Rocco was in tow as well. She smiled warmly at the unharmed sight of Connor and Murphy. No new bandages, thankfully.

Connor tossed a 100-dollar bill on the bar. “Doc, three beers.”

“And keep ‘em coming!” Murphy added.

“Yer drinkin’ on us tonight, darlin.” Catherine’s eyes widened at the large bill Connor had been possessing. “I’m sorry we ran out on ya like that this afternoon. Had some business to take care of.”

She could only imagine what type of business it was that they needed to take care of. Murphy removed a lit cigarette from his mouth and handed it to the slightly inebriated woman. She and Murphy blew smoke rings as they accepted their pints of Guinness from Doc. The barkeeper poured each of them a shot glass of whiskey to sip along with their beer. Catherine knew a hangover was foreseeable.

“Did everything go okay with Shane?”

That was as far as she was willing to go in asking about the events that had taken place after they left her apartment. She wanted to make sure he had given them a fair deal.

Murphy had expressed his gratitude for him and his brother to Catherine for having connected the boys with the biggest underground arms dealer in Boston. Connor, on the other hand, recoiled at the sound of Shane’s name leaving Catherine’s mouth. He wasn’t too fond of her speaking about another man, who had been inside of his Catherine. He took his shot in one mouthful to rid his mind of the thoughts of her naked, sweaty and withering under Shane.

The twins turned to Gaelic to have a private conversation.

”Relax, Con. They’re not together anymore.” 

Connor didn’t realize he had been gripping his pint glass to the point of white knuckles. He calmed at the feeling of comfort as Catherine ran a hand down his back.

“Doesn’t fucking matter.” 

“You have her, you just don’t realize it.” 

Murphy grabbed his beer and left the bar to join Rocco and the others in a game of pool, wanting to leave Connor and Catherine alone. If Connor didn’t kiss Catherine by the time they left McGinty’s, Murphy would have to seriously start questioning his twin’s manhood. Connor was no innocent Irish-Catholic – he had had his fair share of women in his bed other the last decade and he couldn’t figure out why his feelings for Catherine, in particular, put the fear of God in to him.

Six months ago, in an attempt to show Connor just how easy it was to grab Catherine and kiss her, Murphy did just that. There had been far too much alcohol consumed that night and after watching Murphy participate in a ravenous kiss with Catherine—a kiss of rolling tongues and lip biting—Connor hadn’t spoken to Murphy for nearly a week.

Connor had come very close to kissing Catherine that night, leaving her beyond heartbroken when he pulled away rather than colliding his lips with hers. He had teasingly brushed his along hers. Engaging with Murphy was her way of saying ‘fuck you’ to Connor but quickly regretted every moment as soon as it was over. What broke Catherine the most was the fact Connor was angrier at his brother and not at all with her. She had been a willing contributor.

“You feeling okay?” Catherine asked.

She saw the shift in Connor’s sentiment as he relived that night. The feeling of her hand closing over his brought him back to reality.

“The best I’ve felt all day now that I’m with ya.” Smiled Connor.

Between the two, six empty pint glasses sat the bar and despite Guinness fog in his brain, Connor could feel his inhibitions fall and his confidence rise. In two years, he had never felt so comfortable in the presence of Catherine. He allowed her true beauty to soak in, even in ratty jeans, a t-shirt, and no makeup she was nothing short of radiant to him.

“Ye have no idea how beautiful ya’are.”

Connor shocked himself. Did he really say that out loud?

There was no stopping the crimson that burned Catherine’s face. He had made her blush. Catherine followed the ‘veritas’ tattoo on his hand as he reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. She was standing beside him, her back pressed against the edge of the bar as he sat in the stool.

Murphy and Rocco were sitting just a few feet down from the couple as they spoke with Doc about their new career path. When Rocco noticed the pull between Connor and Catherine, he slapped Murphy on the shoulder several times.

“Motherfuckers gonna do it.”

Sure enough, without hesitation, Connor did.

Jumping to his feet, Connor pressed his body against Catherine as he took her warm face in his even warmer hands. Not wasting another second, Connor crashed his lips to hers. It was Earth shattering for Catherine as her brain fried under the rough, yet tender assault Connor brought upon her mouth.

The first kiss between them was just as perfect as the both of them had dreamt of. Catherine hooked her fingers into the belt loops of Connor’s jeans, drawing him closer as she accepted his burning tongue in her mouth.

Using his foot to slam the door behind him, Connor didn’t break the kiss with Catherine. His head was swimming from the softness of her lips that tasted of peppermint. Her tongue matched the flavor of his; tobacco and Guinness. Catherine wrapped her arms around his neck as he threaded his fingers into her thick hair.

The kiss was anything but awkward, as they both had expected it to be. Rather, they felt as though there was no one else in the world they were meant to be with. Connor was far more affectionate than Catherine imagined he would be even though the kiss was hot and heavy; all tongue and teeth.

Both Connor and Catherine lost their wits for a moment. Connor released his fingers from her hair, allowing his newly freed hand to travel down her neck, her chest, finally resting on her breast. Even through her bra and shirt, Connor could feel her nipple hardening under his touch. Catherine wasn’t the only one who felt parts of her anatomy harden.

Catherine broke from the kiss for only a second. “Fuck me, Connor.”

The syllables of his name rolling off her tongue sounded like heaven to him. He could only imagine what it sounded like in the form of a moan.

Obliging, Connor spun Catherine around so her back was facing him. She gripped the vanity while she felt his calloused fingers unbutton and tug down her jeans and panties. Connor let his jeans fall to his ankles as Catherine propped her leg up on the counter to allow easier access.

Gripping the back of her neck as he aligned himself for entry, Connor caught Catherine’s eye in the mirror. He stopped. They both were panting from the excitement.

Connor shook his head. “Not like this, Catherine.”

Drunk, in the bathroom at McGinty’s was not how Connor wanted to be with Catherine for the first time. She placed her right foot firmly back on the floor as she turned on her heels to face him. Thankfully sense had hit Connor when it did as Catherine thought the same as him. Whenever she had fantasized of being pinned beneath Connor, there was always a mattress, less mold, and not a half dozen men sitting less than two feet away.

“When it’s meant to be, it’ll happen,” Catherine reassured, capturing Connor’s lower lip between hers.

They had waited long enough to get to that point; there was no reason to rush now.


	4. four

Hung over beyond all belief, Catherine sat at her kitchen table, head in her hands. She was focusing on not gagging whenever her nose caught the wafting smell of the pizza from last night. The clock on the stove in her dimly lit kitchen ticked a quarter past two in the afternoon. She had never slept this late before but then again she had never stayed at McGinty’s until almost four o’clock in the morning.

This was the first time she had hung with Connor and Murphy long enough to find the two often closed the bar; long after Doc had retired for the night. The boys always left a wad of cash on the bar for the old man to cover what they drank.

Catherine could hear the light snores coming from the body that was still out cold. Murphy had called dibs on the pullout sofa in the living room, as the twins were far too intoxicated to make it back to their loft. Connor and Catherine managed to out drink Murphy even after they arrived back at her apartment. With the lightweight twin passed out, Connor had followed Catherine into her bedroom.

He had seen her bedroom in the past but only because it was right before the bathroom. It didn’t matter how drunk he was, the memory of watching Catherine strip from her clothing before crawling into bed was fresh and vivid in his mind.

Catherine was nodding off at the table when Connor scuffled in the kitchen. She didn’t bother to lift her head even when he placed two horse pills and a large glass of water on the table for her. A painkiller for the headache and another to combat nausea. Connor felt a twinge of guilt for not cutting Catherine off the liquor after she had lost her balance as they were playing pool. She would have fallen flat on her ass if Rocco hadn’t caught her.

When she didn’t reach for the pills, Connor knelt down at her side. Grabbing the pills he gently shook her awake.

“Ye have to get these down, ma’cushla.” Connor popped them in Catherine’s mouth as she groaned and reached for the water. She recognized the pills as being hydrocodone and Zofran. She would be back on her feet in only a matter of hours.

Realizing what it was Catherine needed, he headed to the bathroom where he drew a tepid bath. If he hadn’t raided her stash of narcotics, there would have been no way for Connor to carry Catherine into the bathroom after his five-story fall just two days ago.

Once the tub was full, Connor undressed her from the oversized t-shirt, cotton shorts and finally her panties. Connor couldn’t help himself from groping her tight ass cheeks. Even in her booze-flu, Catherine smirked at Connor.

“Have you no decency?”

“Aye. But, not when I’ve got ya stripped in front o’me.”

Taking the hand he offered for help, Catherine lowered herself into the water. Her muscles relaxed as Connor folded up a towel and placed it behind her neck for added support. Sitting on the floor, he cupped water in his hand to dampen parts of Catherine’s skin that weren’t submerged.

She closed her eyes, feeling her mind and body betray her. Catherine’s mind went somewhere she knew it shouldn’t which led to the subsequent tensing of her muscles. She was wound tighter than a snare drum and it didn’t go unnoticed by Connor.

“What’s on yer mind?”

Reaching out a wet hand, Catherine caressed his cheek. She knew what she was about to say would shift the mood but she couldn’t keep her curiosity to herself anymore.

“What happened last night? After you left here.”

Connor shifted so his back was bolstered up against the wall; Catherine’s hand retreated into the bath water. His eyes darkened, she could sense albeit him no longer looking at her.

“S’none of yer concern.”

Catherine felt a fire awaken in her belly. “It became my concern the second you asked me to connect you with Shane.”

The anger that laced Connor’s tone was something Catherine had never heard. She would be lying if she said it didn’t wrench a slight fear in her heart.

“Ya stay out of it! Ya understand?”

Standing up in the tub, not caring water had sloughed onto Connor, Catherine reached for the towel hanging up on its peg. She wrapped her body and stepped over him, stopping in the doorway.

“If you’re going to keep secrets from me, Connor, this,” she pointed to herself and him several times. “This isn’t gonna work.”

Connor flinched and Murphy stirred at the sound of her slamming the door to her bedroom. Cross with not only the situation but himself, Connor kicked the wall in front of him before tearing out of the bathroom. He saw any sort of relationship with Catherine ending before it had even begun.

There was no way she would want anything to do with him if he told her what happened. She would have him pegged as a sociopath but if he didn’t tell, he knew she would be true to her words about secrets being kept.

Taking a deep breath, Connor was surprised to find her door was unlocked. He found her sitting on the floor, resting against her dresser and still draped only in the tiny towel.

Catherine wiped the tears from her face as quickly as she could when he entered her bedroom. She didn’t want him to know she was crying. Dropping in front of her, he seized her hands in his before kissing her delicate fingers.

“Connor,” she hiccupped. More tears.

Tossing a leg over her lap he gently straddled Catherine as he pulled her up in order to wrap his arms tightly around her. He couldn’t bear being the cause of the excruciating pangs of emotional anguish she was waving. There was no way he could keep this from her if he wanted a future with her.

He kissed her forehead, told her to get dressed. If she didn’t want to stick around after hearing the truth, Connor realized there would be no point in having her in his life, period.


End file.
